Smallest Sun

The old one winked, then died,

a tiny bulb, tired and spent.

So I plugged this new one in,

a plastic square, quietly sent

to push the darkness back a bit,

to ease the night's dark fall.

It casts a yellowed, gentle glow,

a comfort, soft and small.

Just enough to find the door,

or know the hall is clear.

It doesn't fight the shadows, no,

just holds a quiet cheer.

A little sun, a small, weak star,

against the endless night.

Reminds me things don't go too far

without a flicker of light.